THE
OLD TOOL SHED.
Saturday came quickly for the boys; the sun had not risen and their
mother was still sound asleep. But at last the weekend was here and that meant
no school for two days. It was half past five, and like his grandfather, Joseph
was already up and about. His first job for the day would be to start the wood
stove. The house was freezing cold, and his little brother was just waking up.
‘Come on Danny, hurry up! We’ve got to help grandad clean out the
stable as soon as we’ve finished breakfast.’
Breakfast to the boys was a piece of cold meat from the icebox thrown
between two slices of bread. In a matter of minutes they were out the door and
running down the dirt track leading to the old stable, which had been there ever
since their great-grandfather Patrick was alive.
When the boys entered the stable, they were surprised to see their
grandfather was already busy putting the feedbag on old Sally.
‘Good morning, boys! Where have you two been? Half the day’s already
gone,’ he said with a smile. ‘While I’m looking after Sally, I want you
boys to tidy the old tool shed at the back of the stable. It hasn’t been
cleaned for years and it’s gotten into a hell of a mess.’
The boys were hoping for an easy morning, but on hearing their
grandfather’s instructions, they could only stare at each other, their mouths
wide open in astonishment.
‘Not the tool shed, grandad!’ pleaded Daniel. ‘Crikey, that place
is full of all sorts of junk, to say nothing
of cobwebs and spiders.’ Their grandfather just continued feeding Sally
and did not reply, so the boys knew his answer. Reluctantly they headed off to
the old shed that sat just a few feet from the barn.
The rusted hinges barely supported the old wooden door, and creaked as
the boys slowly pushed it open. The sun had still not fully raised its head over
the distant hills, and the inside of the shed kept its mysterious contents well
hidden in a shroud of velvety black.
The two boys agreed to wait just a few more minutes, not because they
were too scared to enter, but merely to make sure they did not trip over the
many items that were bound to be piled across the floor. The cobwebs and the
spiders, of course, were another good reason for waiting for a little more
light. As the sun’s rays finally started to illuminate the inside of the shed,
the boys could barely believe their eyes. Scattered across the floor, rusted
cans, horseshoes, and old tools of every description jockeyed with broken
furniture and odd lengths of cut timber, all of it covered in dust and cobwebs.
In the far corner, an old desk sat almost hidden from view, it too covered in
webs and even more rubbish.
‘This is going to take us forever, Joe!’ said Daniel. ‘We’ll
never get through this mess.’
‘Stop your moaning, Danny, and let’s start getting this place cleaned
up.’
The boys started moving some of the junk out of the shed so at least they
could make room to start getting things back into order.
‘Crikey, Joe, what’s that weird-looking thing against the wall?’
‘I think it’s called an anvil, you know, what the smithy uses to
shape hot steel, and that thing over there is, well, I don’t know, but you
push it up and down to build up the fire to get it nice and hot.’
Joseph was trying hard to think of its name when a voice from behind
abruptly reminded him.
‘That, my young fellow, is what they call a bellows.’
The two boys almost evacuated their trousers with fright as they spun
around toward the shadowed figure standing in the doorway.
‘Crikey, grandad, you just about scared the shits out of us!’ Daniel
realised what he had just said and quickly continued to make himself busy,
hoping his grandfather had not heard the unintended profanity that had slipped
from his mouth in his unexpected but brief moment of weakness.
John of course did hear, but chose to ignore the indiscretion.
‘Many, many years ago before your father was born, I used to help my father
make our own horseshoes and a lot of other farming tools we couldn’t afford to
buy, and most of this junk belonged to him. I think the remains of his old place
are still there, up in the bush right over there, but I’ve never had reason to
go up there for years.’
The boys looked in the direction their grandfather was pointing, but
could see nothing but dense bush. Before the boys could ask another question,
their grandfather was already walking back towards the stable. ‘Crikey, Joe, I
can’t even remember granddad’s father. What was his name? And what about
that place up in the bush? I didn’t even know there was anything there.’
‘Stop your blabbering, Danny, and give me a hand to move this old
desk.’
The boys gingerly wiped the last of the cobwebs off the desk and, taking
hold of either end, gave it one almighty heave. The desk remained stationery,
and the boys in all of their exuberance and enthusiasm soon found themselves
sprawled out amongst the rubbish on the floor.
‘What the blazes is in this thing, Joe? It must weigh a ton!’
‘I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,’ Joe said resolutely.
He started to pull out the drawers and could see immediately why the desk had
not moved; six of its seven drawers were filled with small bits and pieces of
iron, all of which were quickly emptied into an old rusty drum behind the shed.
The seventh drawer, however, was secured with a large padlock.
‘Why do you think this drawer is locked Joe and all the others not?’
‘If you’d just stop yapping for a minute I’ll try to find out.’
Joe grabbed an old iron bar from the pile of rubbish and proceeded to pry at the
lock. After a few strenuous attempts, the rusty padlock finally gave way and
fell to the ground.
Daniel pushed his brother out of the way in a wild state of anticipation
and pulled at the drawer. Then both boys stood frozen, amazed at what the drawer
had revealed to them. On top of a mildewed leather satchel laid an old revolver
smothered in what looked and smelt like some type of fat. Before Joe could
blink, Daniel had the pistol in his hand.
‘Careful, you idiot! Give that to me -- you want to get the both of us
shot?’ Joe wrestled the gun from Daniel’s hand and placed it on top of the
desk. While Joe was pondering why a revolver would be locked away in the drawer,
Daniel already had the satchel opened up on the floor and was rummaging through
the contents.
‘What’s in the satchel, Danny?’
‘Nothing,’ Danny said, sitting back in disgust.
“Just a load of old newspaper and it looks like some sort of map.’
Joe scooped up one of the newspaper clippings and started to read.
‘What does it say, Joe?’ asked Danny, whose reading ability so far
was confined to words of one syllable. ‘Is it anything interesting?’
Joe scowled thoughtfully, picking up one clipping after another. ‘All
of the papers seem to be about the outlaw Ned Kelly and his gang.’
‘NED KELLY!’ shouted Daniel. ‘Why would granddad have papers about
Ned Kelly, and why were they locked up with a gun?’
Joseph was about to examine the revolver one more time when Daniel caught
sight of their grandfather walking towards the shed. ‘Quick Joe, granddad’s
on his way.’
Joe quickly put the revolver and satchel back where they had found it and
closed the drawer.
‘How are you going with this mess, boys? Have you got it cleaned up
yet?’
‘Not quite yet, granddad,’ replied Joseph in a slightly guilty voice,
‘but we’ve been flat out all morning.’
‘Yeah, like a lizard drinking,’ interrupted Daniel.
‘I’ll give you another fifteen minutes to get all this stuff put back
neatly in the shed, and I’ll see you two back up at the house.’
The boys thought it a good idea to leave the drawer alone, at least for
the time being, and they stacked everything back neatly into the shed. On their
way home, Joseph turned his head for one last look at the shed, his curiosity
was now starting to get the better of him.
‘What secrets lie in that old satchel?’ he wondered. ‘I think
we’ll be paying that shed another visit.’
When the boys arrived home, their mother had already organised more jobs
for them to complete around the house.
‘Joseph, could you please chop some firewood for me? And Daniel, you
can help carry the logs around to the chopping block. Joseph, you are not to let
your brother touch that axe.’
Only last month, an errant chunk of wood spun off the well-meaning
Daniel’s axe and crashed through their front window. Daniel seemed to have a
way with windows.
Catherine was now ready to join Agnes and Andrew for their usual Saturday
shopping trip into Wangaratta. With a final wave goodbye, the spring cart soon
disappeared along the two miles of dirt road that led to the town. Now left
alone with their grandfather, Joseph thought it might be a good time to ask him
what he knew about the outlaw Ned Kelly, without revealing to him what they had
found in the old desk earlier on. Joseph had already spoken to his brother, and
had warned him not to mention a word of what they had discovered or they’d
both be in for it.
Joseph chose his opportunity as the boys sat in John’s kitchen; their
heads bent over steaming bowls of stew as John puffed on his pipe and read the
paper. ‘Grandad, Joseph asked, do you know much about bushrangers?’
‘Why on earth would you ask me such a question?’ replied John.
‘Freddy McAllister reckons there were bushrangers all over the place
when his grandfather was a boy.’
John, his head still hidden behind the newspaper, replied, ‘When I was
a very young boy not much younger than Daniel, a bloodthirsty
bushranger by the name of Dan Morgan used to roam these parts until the
police caught up with him and killed him. Because he was so cruel they called
him Mad Dog Morgan. After they shot him, they propped him up on some bags of
grain and took a photograph of him right there in the main street of town.’
John thought by being so graphic he would deter the boys from asking any
more questions, but all it did was simply make them even more curious.
‘So what happened then, grandad?’ asked the two boys simultaneously.
‘Well,’ said John with a twinkle in his eye, ‘after that, they
chopped off his head and buried him in the Wangaratta cemetery.’
Joseph and Daniel’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as John
continued; he was now starting to relish this moment with the boys. ‘I have
heard that on a clear night when the moon is full, his headless body has been
seen riding a black stallion across the Warby ranges looking for fresh young
heads to replace the one they cut from his shoulders.’
His two grandsons were now as white as ghosts; their mouths wide open in
the sheer terror of it all. John could not contain himself any longer and
started to laugh uncontrollably.
‘Crikey, grandad! You scared the shits out of us!’ said Daniel.
Their grandfather just could not stop laughing. That was until Joseph
asked what he thought to be a simple question. ‘But grandad, what about Ned
Kelly?’
On hearing this, the laughter stopped abruptly, and quickly turned to
anger. He threw the paper to one side and leaned into Joseph’s face. ‘Never
mention the name Ned Kelly in this house ever again. Do you understand me,
Joseph? It needs to be left well alone.’
The boys were now visibly shaken by their grandfather’s outburst, and
John, who loved his grandsons dearly, wrapped his arms around them to hold them
close. ‘There are things I care not to talk about boys, and Ned Kelly is one.
You don’t understand the trouble that name can cause around these parts. Ned
Kelly is dead and buried.’
John wiped his trembling lips with the back of his hand to still them.
‘Now that’s enough, both of you. It’s time to go home. Your mother will
soon be back from town and there is still more work you need to finish before
she returns.
After the two boys had left, John clasped his hands to his face and began
to cry. The memories of a time long gone had come back to haunt him once more.
‘It must be almost forty years ago now,’ he thought to himself, ‘and why
are my grandsons all of a sudden asking questions about Ned ?’
John lifted himself slowly out of his chair and made his way to the
kitchen window and looked up to the neat wooden cottage he had helped his son
Michael build for Catherine and their boys. ‘Michael, Michael, if only you
were home with your family, and not fighting in some bloody war half way
‘round the world. May God keep you safe and bring you home!’
‘What are you looking at, John?’ Agnes was back, and her sudden
appearance had shaken John from deep thought. He could see Catherine walking up
the path towards her home, laden with the spoils of shopping, and the boys
racing excitedly to meet her.
Turning to Agnes with tears still filling his eyes, all that John could
say was; ‘My dear, dear Agnes, are we not the luckiest people in the world?’
Agnes was taken back. She hadn’t seen a tear in John’s eye for a very
long time. She gently took him by the hand and rested her head against his
chest. ‘You are absolutely right, my dear, we are, and one day our son will be
back home and safely in the arms of his family once again.’
The boys helped their mother carry the parcels to the house, and when
everything was packed away, Joseph made his mother a cup of tea and joined his
brother on the back steps.
‘Crikey, Joe!’ whispered Daniel. ‘I’ve never seen grandad get so
upset. All we did was ask him about Ned Kelly.’
‘I know,’ replied Joe, ‘and I think the answer may lie with that
old satchel and pistol we found today. I think I will pay that shed another
visit tonight.’
‘I’m coming with you, Joe,’ Daniel quickly replied.
Joe flashed his brother a smile. Even though Daniel was sometimes more of
a hindrance than help, Joseph was happy to have the company. The shed was quite
a distance from their house, and he really didn’t fancy going by himself,
especially with the thought of Mad Dog Morgan’s headless corpse riding the
range that regrettably ran a little too close to their home for his
liking.
‘When mother goes to bed, we’ll sneak out our bedroom window. I’ll
leave the kerosene lamp just outside the window with some matches. It’s going
to be very dark in that shed tonight so don’t cause any trouble.’ Joe knew
his brother only too well, and if anything was going to happen, he knew that
Daniel would in most cases be the cause.
The sun had eventually disappeared behind the Warby ranges when Catherine
called for the boys to wash up and get ready for tea. It had been a long and
tiring day and she was dearly looking forward to having an early night. For the
boys, however, the night had just begun.